Gardening is Not My Job
I mean, I do garden, I like growing things. And the plants around my house are reasonably attractive, but that's it.
I recently started planting seeds, instead of buying nursery plants, to save money. I am ridiculously excited whenever they sprout. When volunteers sprout from self-seeding flowers planted the year before…hoo-boy, the glee.
Sometimes, they don’t sprout at all. Sometimes, they sprout and die before developing. And sometimes they achieve plant stasis: they sprout, they grow and then they stop somewhere between seedling and actual plant and never change at all until winter comes and they finally curl up and die. I really have no idea why any of this happens.
No, stop it. Don’t give me advice. I mean it, really.
I like to be good at things, really good at them. I like to succeed and I am frequently accused of being an over achiever, or type A, or a perfectionist…you get the picture.
I've made a point to be as good as I can at a lot of things. I work hard at being a good mom to my girls. While my house isn't anything approaching spotless, I do have an organized pantry, refrigerator and closet – my girls' closets are organized too. I balance my checkbook weekly and keep a budget. My performance reviews at work are excellent. My cholesterol is good. Here I am working at writing too. I create art and try hard to make it look nice…I'm that irritating bitch who's good at “everything.”
Except, I'm not. I'm just trying really hard.
Then there's gardening. I like to garden, being with growing things and being surrounded by plants makes me happy. Yes, I could research, and read, and study up, and apply lots of additives and special techniques to try and make my plants the prettiest on the block. But I don't, and I won't. In fact, my approach to gardening could be described as haphazard (or half-assed, you pick).
Why? Because gardening is not my job. It's something I want to enjoy and not have to be “perfect” while doing it. I've chosen to keep wondering why something didn't sprout, and celebrating with ridiculous joy when those little green shoots break the surface and an actual freaking plant grows.
Don't get me wrong, gardening, and having the place look decent, is hard work and some Mondays I'm creaky and sore from the manual labor. But that's all it is – chopping, and hacking, and mulching, and planting. I listen to music and work away and never worry about how to turn my hydrangeas back to blue. Sometimes I run across a hot tip on Pinterest that makes what I manage to grow stronger or fluffier – roses really do like over-ripe bananas, who knew? – but it's all a game of chance that I will not, under any circumstances, try to figure out.
Gardening is not my job, and I won't make it one – I already have enough of those, thank you. Instead, I will marvel, and appreciate, and smell the roses when they miraculously bloom.
I recently started planting seeds, instead of buying nursery plants, to save money. I am ridiculously excited whenever they sprout. When volunteers sprout from self-seeding flowers planted the year before…hoo-boy, the glee.
Sometimes, they don’t sprout at all. Sometimes, they sprout and die before developing. And sometimes they achieve plant stasis: they sprout, they grow and then they stop somewhere between seedling and actual plant and never change at all until winter comes and they finally curl up and die. I really have no idea why any of this happens.
No, stop it. Don’t give me advice. I mean it, really.
 |
| Bubble flowers! Come back every year if I remember not to dig them up... |
I like to be good at things, really good at them. I like to succeed and I am frequently accused of being an over achiever, or type A, or a perfectionist…you get the picture.
I've made a point to be as good as I can at a lot of things. I work hard at being a good mom to my girls. While my house isn't anything approaching spotless, I do have an organized pantry, refrigerator and closet – my girls' closets are organized too. I balance my checkbook weekly and keep a budget. My performance reviews at work are excellent. My cholesterol is good. Here I am working at writing too. I create art and try hard to make it look nice…I'm that irritating bitch who's good at “everything.”
Except, I'm not. I'm just trying really hard.
 |
| I grew a carrot! A weird carrot, but who cares! |
Why? Because gardening is not my job. It's something I want to enjoy and not have to be “perfect” while doing it. I've chosen to keep wondering why something didn't sprout, and celebrating with ridiculous joy when those little green shoots break the surface and an actual freaking plant grows.
Don't get me wrong, gardening, and having the place look decent, is hard work and some Mondays I'm creaky and sore from the manual labor. But that's all it is – chopping, and hacking, and mulching, and planting. I listen to music and work away and never worry about how to turn my hydrangeas back to blue. Sometimes I run across a hot tip on Pinterest that makes what I manage to grow stronger or fluffier – roses really do like over-ripe bananas, who knew? – but it's all a game of chance that I will not, under any circumstances, try to figure out.
 |
| These chives...not so much...no idea why |
Gardening is not my job, and I won't make it one – I already have enough of those, thank you. Instead, I will marvel, and appreciate, and smell the roses when they miraculously bloom.
